Friday, 6 December 2013

We managed to get our copy the evening before release at Mr
B’s own bibliotherapy session(http://www.mrbsemporium.com/) and what a treat we have. This posthumous publication has been eagerly
awaited, the third section of Patrick’s year-long walk from England to Istanbul
(Constantinople) made in 1935 when he was 18.This book has been finalised by Patrick’s literary executors, Colin
Thubron and Artemis Cooper, using completed sections and notes.They have managed a potentially very
difficult task wonderfully well, creating something that is genuine.Yet again, the brilliant writing, the
descriptions of people and landscapes, shines through.The lands and people Patrick meets are just
fascinating.The book takes us from the
Iron Gates on the Donau through Bulgaria, back to Romania, then down the Black Sea coast to Constantinople.

Interestingly, there are only scattered notes of his stay in Istanbul –
no soaring descriptions of the architecture or the bustle of city life we
enjoyed earlier this year. This is
curious, but must be a part of the story why the book was never finalised in
Patrick’s lifetime. Perhaps the politics
of the Ottoman collapse were too raw. The
final sections describe Patrick’s first time on Mount Athos, visiting the many
different monasteries of that Greek isthmus.
Reading these pages, you can see why he was drawn back to the quiet
places, as described in his little book on monasteries A Time to Keep Silence.

There are some wonderful passages throughout the
book – classic Fermor – leaving images in your mind that you hanker after. A passing violent storm, with rushing
rainwater. The storks flying south -
first the vanguard, then the massed ranks at different heights and finally the
last stragglers and silence – oh what an image and how I want to see it. Does it even still occur? Then the evening with the Greek sailors and
shepherds – perhaps the start of Patrick’s love of Greece. The dancing is mesmeric and ecstatic, with
tourist taverna evenings a pale reflection of what he describes. And the people – friends he makes from all
walks of life, who bring their mixed Balkan cultural histories to cloud their
behaviour – fascinating and affecting. A
treat!

Tuesday, 19 November 2013

I first read this book aged 11 or 12, when it left me with
an odd fascination for hollow ways and green lanes in the English landscape –
picked up by others, including Hugh Thompson Green Road into the Trees, but more particularly Robert Macfarlane
and his wonderful The Old Ways. However, my schoolboy memory was also for a
great adventure. When this special
reprinting in hardback by Mr B’s appeared (http://www.mrbsemporium.com/), how could we not get it?!We are now the proud possessors of copy
number 41 of a limited edition of 500. The Introduction is by Robert Macfarlane
himself and describes a trip with Roger Deakin (Wildwood) to Dorset looking for the possible site in Rogue Male {just found Holloway (2013) describing that trip and
more is out}!

On a second reading, Rogue Male turned out to be
a wonderful chameleon of a book. OK it
is a man’s book, but it has achieved something that is only rarely done – it is
a boy’s adventure, an adult thriller, a spy story published on the eve of the
Second World War in 1939, a nature study with insight into animal and human
behaviour - all at the same time and in a relatively short book. Cleverly, the writing uses described memory
flashback, so that as the book proceeds, we learn more and more of the
subject. Written in the first person,
the man who first lines up a foreign leader (clearly Hitler) in the crosshairs
of his telescopic sight is an enigma. We
learn of his capture, suffering, escape to England, only to find his pursuers
are close behind, notably the nasty but clever Quive-Smith. So to Dorset and
old stamping grounds for me, as we head for a hidden holloway and an excavation
to hide in, where Asmodeus the cat follows proceedings. Ultimately, there is escape after an
unwelcome end to the cat and fittingly Quive-Smith, with honour maintained in extremis, sadness for a lost love,
before setting off for a final task. A
rare book indeed.

Monday, 18 November 2013

This
a cracking read and a wonderfully full and complex story woven about Jun Do,
the main character, and his life in North Korea. It is a story about sacrifice, but it is a
wonderful tale. The environments and the
lives may be bleak, in this totalitarian state, but they are human and
carefully brought to life. Starting as
an orphan, he knows he is treated badly by the orphan master, but only because
he is special. He is clever, so he is trained
in the army, and goes to work in the tunnels under the DMZ into South
Korea. He becomes at home and can fight
in the dark. Described only in snippets
through the story, he undergoes pain training and learns to take terrible
punishments. He is bright and is
selected to join a team of kidnappers, pinching people from Japan and South
Korea, often for people with specific talents needed by the Pyonyang elite. He learns foreign languages, especially Japanese
and English. Thus, he is sent to sea on
a fishing trawler, where he listens to the radio traffic at night – including
two American women rowing across the Pacific – and what turns out to be the International
Space Station, where surprisingly Americans and Russians work and joke
together. How could that be possible? Shortly after a run in with the US Navy, he
fakes a terrible shark bite on his arm, to protect the trawler crew from
summary posting to mining camps. His
language skills get him on a trip to Texas, where the “Minister” is a driver, the
minder is the Minister and Jun Do as translator is mistaken by the US security
as General Ga, the highest general in North Korea. Treating his shark wounds, he is
befriended. Back home, Jun Do is sent to
a prison mining camp, where it turns out the real General Ga is in charge of
finding uranium for the state. The
characters Jun Do meets and the trying circumstances are very real. When General Ga, a sadist, comes to visit, he
sets about Jun Do underground. However,
Jun Do breaks the light, darkness is his friend and he gets rid of Ga and takes
his place. He escapes to Puyonyang and
is slowly accepted by Ga’s wife Sun Moon and their two children. Against a backdrop of bizarre brainwashing
behaviour and grand designs to impress foreigners, escape to the US, torture
and sacrifice complete this wonderful book - but for whom, you ask? You will have to read it to find out.

With Do-Soon Kim on the east side of S Korea, after visiting Jeju Island (2008)

Sunday, 20 October 2013

Here is an interesting, well-written book, full of people,
locations and history that give us a snapshot of southern England today. Personal coincidences abound, so Hugh was off
to a winner for me from the off. I
started reading this a week after walking with Hilary and the dogs on Chesil
beach at Abbotsbury, after Mike Rufus’ 75th birthday hog roast at
his thatched cottage Tilly Whim in the countryside outside Dorchester,
Dorset. The walk described in the book
starts at the chapel by Abbotsbury above the beach! The walk is along the ancient Icknield Way,
taking in the Ridgeway in Wiltshire, part of which I walked as a boy, through
the Chilterns, ending at Holme-next-the -Sea in Norfolk. Halfway house is
Hugh’s home near the Thames, where he learns he has to move out. Not everything has gone smoothly for Hugh’s
personal life, but I like his take on things and people.

As an ancient trackway, it is fitting that history,
archaeology and landscape are recurring themes.
There are fascinating places described, including the many hill forts,
barrows and henges along the way. The
associated history of these comes easily and the writing provides new
information and insights into our perspectives of English history. The impact of agriculture on the landscape is
a subject close to my heart and part of my professional life. Thomson has a good eye and an insightful
understanding of past influences and current pressures on farming and our
social structures. His telling of the
Bronze Age is fascinating. I’m not sure
why I thought that there was more of the Green Wood in Saxon times – probably
because of the history of hedges, via Oliver Rackham, one of a number of
Cambridge dons that feature. I’m on
familiar territory from Dorset to Cambridgeshire, but the archaeological finds
outside Peterborough including Flag Fen and the famous “Seahenge” at the end of
the journey are just so exciting that we will have to get East and explore.

There is something about the coherence of making the walk
that is appealing. I guess many readers
will have crossed the route, but somehow knowing some of the places and even
some of the people in the book, adds to the read. Having worked near Oxford, I know Wittenham
Clumps and the Goring Gap. I have met
Robin Buxton many times, but cannot claim to have climbed Kilimanjaro with
him! My father did climb it, as a young
Agricultural Officer from the Uganda Protectorate. Heading East, I was pleased
to read of the Baldock Tesco’s with its amazing façade. This was an occasional stopping point for me,
stocking up for a week away at the Boxworth experimental farm outside
Cambridge.

What hasn’t come across, is that this book is also a store
of literary interludes, with a bit of music thrown in. I loved George Orwell’s house. Thomson read English Lit at Cambridge and we
slowly learn of his life through the book, including his career of
film-making. His knowledge of travel and
ancient cultures, particularly in South America, pops up now and then, always
interesting and enthused. So there is a
lot here – enjoy.

Thursday, 17 October 2013

Thoughtless Gardening would be a better title for this book! I haven’t been as stimulated by a book as
this one, for some time. However, it
isn’t for the right reasons. The Oxford
academic author and Financial Times gardening columnist has gathered his
writings into the calendar year in short column chapters. The fact that each is short is a
blessing. To give him his due, he does
have an excellent understanding of cultivars and the best chapters focus on
individual groups – asters, peonies, roses, etc., etc. - where useful
experience and information is passed on.
In a similar vein, some of the descriptions of individual gardens are
good. However, the overall tone is of
pomposity and name dropping, rather than of passing on a genuine
enthusiasm. What comes over is a rather opinionated
writer, probably reflecting a life spent in an Oxford college and London. What really grates is that here is a writer
that apparently likes gardens and gardening (one wonders if they really do in
their heart of hearts), but who has little grasp of ecology and the natural
world. “Wildlife” seems to be just the
four-footed variety and a problem to be eliminated. The value of beneficial
invertebrates and pollinators is foreign to the author. In fact, one chapter seems sufficient
evidence to bring a criminal case against him under the Wildlife Act. He describes putting out baits laced with
weed killer to kill mammals in the garden.
This is just the practice used by some unscrupulous landowners to kill
kites, eagles and harriers and now vigorously prosecuted by police and wildlife
protection organisations. It isn’t clear, but it could be that the “poison”
used was glyphosate, which of course is not toxic to mammals – again
highlighting a lack of knowledge and understanding. Surprising and irritating.

Tuesday, 8 October 2013

A slightly
odd book? Perhaps, but as one critic puts it,
“beautifully written and strangely moving”.
The main character, the miller, Gunnar Huuttunen, is an odd individual
for sure - he howls like a wolf now and then - but he is hard working, straight and persecuted. That persecution from his neighbours is
definitely unfair and undeserved, but circumstances unfold in this fable in an
unpredictably predictable way. How he
keeps going, being sent to an asylum, escaping and living wild, is a wonder and
you feel for him. His kind, increasingly
supportive, girlfriend, the horticulturalist Sanelma Käyrämö, sees him through
a series of mishaps and adventures. The
great and the good of the local town, particularly the chief of police and
doctor, have it in for Gunnar, for no obviously good reason. Having evaded the army, Gunnar is ultimately
tricked and captured to be sent back to the asylum. He is with his friend, the constable Portimo, on
the train, but mysteriously they never arrive at the asylum. However, equally mysteriously, a big lone
wolf appears in the neighbourhood and wreaks a little revenge on the chief and
doctor. It must by Gunnar, but who
knows? The final fable is alluring, but
the beauty of this book is with Gunnar and those closest to him. Surely a little more understanding would help
the world go round.

Saturday, 7 September 2013

We
went across to Mr. B’s in Bath to listen to Alexander Fuller, brilliant author of Gone to the Dogs and Under the Tree of Forgetfulness about
family life in Zambia and Zimbabwe, both of which will make you laugh out loud
and cry. This book, One Day I Will Write About This Place, was one that she
recommended as a rare example of an honest and direct one by an African about their
Africa. This is autobiographical, covering the early life of Binyavanga and is
a chaotic romp from his early life in Kenya, through troubled adolescence, to
university and even more troubled drop-out in South Africa, then back to the
arms of his family in Kenya.A measure
of normality and a job, but all the time, he is reading, reading, reading – so,
yes, he starts writing.And he writes
well.Congolese music, sights, smells –
the first impressions and feelings powerfully laid down as childhood memory are
here.There are his lows of dropping out in South
Africa, where his beloved sister tries to keep him going, and having to return
home to face his parents - but family are family.People,
communities and tribes he meets are fascinating and all the time, the
background politics shape the city of Nairobi and the interactions between
tribes.He is of the “ruling” Kikuyu,
but their place in Kenyan society is equivocal.His mother also comes from the land of my birth, Uganda, torn apart by
Idi Amin.They travel there to western
Uganda to visit the family, passing through places and landscapes that stir faint memories for
me.Read this book.There is charm, wit, interest and much to
learn – Binyavanga grows up, but this universal passage is an individual,
unusual and vivid one in this book.

My parents, my sister and I used to live in this bungalow at Arapai Farm Institute, near Soroti, Uganda.

Saturday, 17 August 2013

“Small
and perfectly formed” is one quote on the cover of this deceptive book and it
accurately sums up this little charmer.
Set in a small Italian town, this seems an everyday tale where nothing
much happens. Dino, the main character,
works on the town roads, with his small gang, creating and repairing perfect
stone block work. His recreation is
billiards in the local café/billiards hall, run by the legendary player
Cirillo. As a boy, Dino is set the task
by Cirillo of getting the ball to return to the exact spot – every time. He perseveres. As a man, he is quietly married to Sophia and
they live frugally with little income.
Into this routine of stonework, billiards and home, slowly change comes.
First, the arrival of tarmac and the break-up of the road gang. That does bring
change, but going to national billiards tournaments at Cirillo’s suggestion (he
will not go) is another. Dino, as a
country hick, just does his thing and wins, but it is for Sophia and the
potential of fame and fortune is not for him.
With changes to work, comes protest, corruption, a bomb, a bit of
racism, then tragedy at home, redemption and love. How did all that happen, when nothing much
was happening? It is a mystery created
by the writing. Read and weep.

Saturday, 27 July 2013

Bruce
Chatwin writes the introduction to this travel book, marking this book, written
in 1933, as perhaps the best written travel book ever and bemoaning the loss of
so many sights, smells and experiences to history. Starting in Venice, this is the description
of Byron’s journey to Oxiana, land of the River Oxus on the border between
Afghanistan and Russia, with much time in Persia, today’s Iran. He makes it on to India and ends back at home
in Savernake, near where I went to school, where he cryptically hands his notes
to his mother to see what she makes of it – yes, it was published! What a joy this book is to read. What writing!
His particular interest is in the ancient architecture of the lands he
travels through. Towers, tombs,
triumphal arches, even old cities, as well as mosques and mausoleums are
brought to life, some over 1000 years old.
Along the way, the vistas and people he meets and how they live are
wonderfully described. This must have
been a tough trip to make, from all perspectives. Many people helped him, some hindered,
including the Shah of Persia (not named, except as the nickname Marjoribanks)
and his administration. As ever, the
people continue their lives in spite of their leaders, just as I found in
Tehran in 2010, 77 years later. I too
visited Isfahan and marvelled at the beautiful and wonderfully constructed
mosque of Sheikh Lutfullah near the Blue Mosque and saw the stone polo goal
posts at each end of the parade ground in front. Alas, I suspect many of the monuments Byron
saw are no more, though the best are preserved as World Heritage sites,
including ancient ziggurats. Persia is a romantic, interesting, hard working,
well-educated country that still, after all its changes, deserves better
leadership. One hopes it will happen
soon. Visit if you can. It is worth it. Tragically, Robert Byron was torpedoed off
West Africa in 1941 aged just 36, while working as a correspondent. He published four travel books.

Wednesday, 17 July 2013

I fear our carbon footprint is growing. This trip, part work
and part holiday, took eight flights to complete, but allowed us to see several
parts of this diverse and fascinating country.
First up, was getting to Samsun, a city we will hear more of in the
future on the northern Black Sea coast.
This was the venue for the 16th European Weed Research
Society Symposium at the Ondokuz Mayýs University. Leaving Bristol early at 06:00 we passed
through Amsterdam and Istanbul Atatürk (KLM, then Turkish Airlines) before
being picked up with others for our hotel, arriving at 22:30 local time. Do-Soon Kim from Seoul and Per Kudsk from
Denmark were at Istanbul, both editors for Weed Research. We were up early on Sunday morning as I was
teaching a course from 09:00 to 17:00 on “How to write a paper for an
international scientific Journal” ahead of the conference. I had a good group of attendees from 11 countries
and it was a successful interactive day.
That was followed by an Editorial Board meeting for Weed Research, the society journal for which I am the
Editor-in-Chief. The conference was
well-run and the social events were good, including an unexpected trip on a
small ship up and down the coast for the attendees of the entire conference.

Leaving Samsun on the Friday morning, we fly with Pegasus to
Istanbul Sabiha Gökçen, then on to Bodrum near the south coast. We had hired a car cheaply and managed to
collect a slightly battered Renault Symbol outside the airport car park, signed
for it on the bonnet and headed for the hills.
Not having a great deal of power was probably a good thing, driving on
the right side of the road. We drove
north east over high hills, then south east, then south west along the Datca
Peninsular. We picked this for its
distance from holiday destinations, looking for peace and a real break. We were not disappointed, staying at the Flow
Datca Surf and Beach Club, enjoying a bit of luxury. The gardens around the pool were full of
palms, olives and flowering Bougainvillea, not far from the sea. The hot sun was ameliorated with a steady
breeze. Not that we did any, the hotel
has a well-equipped windsurfing school on the beach, with people batting over
the waves most of the day. We drove to
the end of the peninsular one day to visit the ancient city site of
Knidos. What views, with a double
harbour on the Aegean and Mediterranean sides!
The British Museum has a huge carved lion from here, amongst other
purloined artefacts.

After five gloriously restful days, we drove to
Dalaman airport and flew to Istanbul. We
had arranged a minibus to run us in to our hotel, also booked online. All went well and we crossed from the Asian
shore to the European and were driven past Taksim Square to the old town. We were looking out over the great Blue
Mosque with Hagia Sophia and the Topkapi Palace a stroll away. We did all these sites and more, taking in the
Grand Bazaar where we bought throws for the sitting room and a leather belt for
me. Bargaining was fun. We also went to the Spice or Egyptian Bazaar
and came away with Iranian saffron and lovely Turkish delights. Our return journey was a long one, starting
with a very early pickup at 03:30 for Atatürk airport and a 06:00 flight to Schiphol. With an 8 hour wait, we headed into Amsterdam
by bus and train and took a tram for the Rijksmuseum, which is now fully
open. The Rembrandts and Vermeers were
grand, as were the doll’s houses! After
lunch in the museum, we headed back to the airport and landed in Bristol at
16:30. The only disappointment after a
great trip was when we picked up the dogs … unfortunately Teasel had been set
upon and had had 7 wounds and umpteen stitches, Rosie 5 stitches and Holly a
couple of nips. After a second
operation, Teasel is now back to her usual self, even if she is having to wear
a plastic lampshade to stop her licking stitches.

Sunday, 14 July 2013

Hilary
gave me this great present last year – 11 books through the year selected by
Mr. B’s wonderful and award-winning bookshop in Bath - but I only started
getting the books towards the end of 2012.
First book up, Fire Season by
Philip Connors, is this fascinating description of times in the Gila National
Forest on the Texas-Mexico border as a fire-watcher. This is a no-road wilderness, something we
can only dream of in the UK. There are
lyrical passages of life alone in the high mountains with Alice, his faithful
dog, over the summers. The characters he
meets, the fire teams and some passing through on the long-distance hiking
trail, are interesting and varied. There
is romance, with his wife, Martha, how they met and increasing tension as to
how they can carry on living apart over the summers. The unanswered question is will he have to
return to the Wall Street Journal after ten years and do a “real” job again. Philip
Connors has a great feel for nature and ecology and brings to life the history
of US forest management and the policies of individual foresters that have
shaped that history. Local history and
characters colour the book. Alongside
Martha, Alice and himself is a fourth major character in this book – Fire. Fires are dangerous – tragically reconfirmed
very recently with the deaths of 19 men, an entire forest fire crew, in the US.
Hence the old policy that US forests would no longer burn and firewatchers were
installed across many national forests.
However, as Connors so well describes, fire is a natural force and
without it, the ecology of huge areas of the US have been damaged. Many forests are adapted to fire and require
it for tree succession. Slowly, natural
burns, which often start from lightning strikes, are being allowed, though
closely monitored by the fire watchers and fire crews, with the result that the
natural ecology is returning. There is spectacular scenery in the US, especially
the National Parks, a little of which Hilary and I saw on our 3000 mile road
trip from Texas, via New Mexico, Arizona, Utah, a little bit of Wyoming to
Denver, Colorado in 2007.

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About Me

Professionally, I am Editor-in-Chief of the academic journal Weed Research and run my own consultancy Marshall Agroecology Ltd. Domestically, I am happily married with two grown-up sons living in Scotland. Sportwise, I play hockey for England Vintage, now Grand Masters (O60s).